


Fires and Fairytales

by binarystarkillers



Series: TLW Week 2020 [3]
Category: The Long Walk - Richard Bachman
Genre: M/M, The Author Regrets Everything, but what can you do, no beta we die like robins, tbh i really hate this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23996134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binarystarkillers/pseuds/binarystarkillers
Summary: Day 03 of TLW week: favourite scene.
Relationships: Ray Garraty/Peter McVries
Series: TLW Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726636
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Fires and Fairytales

**Author's Note:**

> Day 03 of TLW week: favourite scene.

The ground seemed to ebb and flow beneath McVries, the roar of the crowds no more than the gentle roar of the sea. The sky was twisting around him, faded and grimy, and the grey of its clouds seeped into the pavement, into the faces jeering him on, into his sweat-drenched teal hoodie and into the mud-stained purple pants that Stebbins wore, up ahead. Everything seemed far away, nearly hilarious in the absurdity of it all. _Maybe I should clear my head,_ he thought. _Go for a walk._

“Tell us a story, Garraty.”

The grey shadow had spoken. Olson? Baker? No, they’d bought tickets miles back. Stebbins.

“Tell us a story that will take our minds off our troubles.”

“Yeah,” McVries mumbled, dreamlike. He felt like he was floating. “A story, Garraty.”

“All right,” Ray answered, and McVries clapped three times. One for each of his warnings, he noticed, and marvelled at his own thought.

Forcing his ancient head to the side, McVries looked at Garraty, and almost bought his ticket. 

Ray burned so brightly it hurt to look at him. Everything seemed so bright, his sunken eyes tortured and pained and brimming so full of life. His cheekbones and hands were painted a bright cherry-red from days of standing under the Maine sun, and he had a few freckles splattered on his cheeks and forehead. 

It did McVries no good to memorize the constellation on the bridge of Ray’s nose, but he did anyway.

Ray was telling his story, but McVries was only half-listening, encaptured by the life and the hope oozing out of him in waves. He was telling a fairy story, one that maybe Katrina would have liked. Although, come to think of it, McVries didn’t know what she liked anymore, and he’d never be able to find out.

The story had a Lady Fair, and McVries let out a short, bitter laugh. Of course it did. Of fucking course the knight would meet the lady, and fall in love with her beauty. Maybe the lady had long blonde hair, like Jan, too. After all, that’s what Ray wanted, isn’t it? To go back to his fairytale wife and his princess in the castle?

Ray and Jan would practically _glow_ together. Maybe she’d wear his letterman to school, and they’d hold hands in the hallways. They’d burn white gold and amber, garnering approval from everyone they met.

But looking at the defeated slump of Ray’s shoulders, McVries couldn’t bring himself to be angry. He was dying, he knew it. He could feel it in every slap of his heel against the concrete, every bead of sweat that matted itself in his hair. His face was so dry that he could actually feel the scarred tissue in his cheek, a pressing reminder of the last time he had cheated death.

_You lay down everything for those you love_ he thought, and allowed himself to look at Ray. For the first time since they had started walking, he let himself full-on stare at Ray, attempting to commit each detail of the other boy to memory - his smile, the way he moved his hands while talking, the light brown of his eyes. He tried to recall his laugh, the way he playfully shoved people around him, the bite of his temper when it came out. Ray was still talking, eyes straight ahead, and he’d fallen into step with Stebbins, who was listening with a nearly reckless abandon, placing all his attention in Ray’s words and just allowing himself to stumble forward again, and again. _He won’t last much longer,_ McVries realized, and he straightened his back.

Turning away from Ray, McVries forced himself to take a step towards the crowd. And then another. And another. One, two, three. One, two, three. Sunlight glinting off of brown hair. One, two, three. One, two, three. A burst of laughter that warmed the people around him. One, two, three. One, two, three. The smell of woodsmoke that lingered in his jacket. 

A smell that was coming closer. For a second, McVries wondered if he was already dead, or bleeding out on the pavement. If he was dying, this was a kindness from his fading mind. But, no, there was Ray’s voice, high and panicked. 

“Hey! Hey, Pete! _Pete!_ ”

_No. Keep walking,_ he wanted to say, but he didn’t trust himself to speak. If he spoke, Ray could ask him to keep walking, and he didn’t have the backbone of Art Baker. If he could, he would rearrange the stars for Ray Garraty. If Ray asked him to keep walking, he would walk and walk until he died of exhaustion, aching feet and aching mind be damned.

Further away, Stebbins said something that he couldn’t understand, lost in the sea of the crowd and the roar of the greyness around him. Clear as day, though, he heard Ray reply, and then too quickly for someone so tired, Ray’s hand was on his shoulder.

Ray’s eyes were confused, but McVries could see a thin film of tears forming. He knew, then. 

“No, Ray,” he said, as gently as he could, smiling ruefully, “it’s time to sit down.”

Ray’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. “No! No way!”

For a split second, he imagined doing what Ray wanted, turning back and walking more. Maybe if Stebbins fell, they could just keep walking forever, away from the crowds and the Major and everything in their lives.

But Ray was good. He was so damn good, and too damn sweet, and if Stebbins fell, McVries knew that Ray would fall right after him so that McVries could see his family again. 

_I would do the same for him. I am doing the same for him._

McVries became astutely aware that this was the last time he and Ray would ever see each other, with rain and sweat and blood pouring down their faces. He knew he had the face of a corpse, and he knew Ray could see it, but it wasn’t what he wanted. His body so weary that the small movement burned, he forced his lips into a smile. A goodbye. If the Walk was a dream, he was saying goodbye to his favourite part.

He shook his head and sat down, muscles screaming in relief as he finally shut his eyes. He could hear Ray screaming, and he felt his hands pulling at his shoulders, but as the soldiers wrenched Ray away from him, all he could feel was the rain. Pouring over him, washing away the days, washing away his regrets and pain. He felt clear, and calm, and the barrels of two guns against his head might have been the wind.

“No! Me! Me! Shoot me!”

Ray was warned, and Pete’s eyes opened. _Go_ , he tried to tell him. _Go, go, Garraty. Please don’t watch._

As Pete smiled one last time, he could barely see Ray at all, just a flame growing smaller and smaller. 

As the bullet crashed into his head, it flickered out.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be honest and say that I dislike this fic, but, hey, it's here, and it's about a scene that makes me cry like a baby. Pete McVries, I love you.
> 
> My tumblr is binarystarkillers. :)


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